


Possession

by afrocurl



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Introspection, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-10
Updated: 2008-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>...when we'll be lovers, loves at last</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://starxd-sparrow.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://starxd-sparrow.livejournal.com/)**starxd_sparrow** for the beta; at this point, all errors are mine.

The quick look—one passed between friends turned foes—wasn’t lost on him. In fact, he categorized it down to the millisecond, just how she looked at him without hatred and vitriol.

In his mind, he knew that was a look that registered understanding on her part. Something he’d tried to forget since _then_ , but something that couldn’t be avoided otherwise.

Much as he’d tried to push back the remnants of their friendship, it lingered, floating around like an obnoxious fly. He _knew_ there was something there, as much as he wanted to forget it completely.

_It was only a matter of time before she saw it, too._

-*-

It grew harder to ignore her around campus, especially when that guy from the basketball team constantly sat next to her and she drove that sleaze Troy out of town. She’d changed from the girl he knew before; she was no longer afraid of the spotlight, negative though it was. But he was sure that the soft girl who tried not to attract too much attention for fear of outshining her friend and the one he’d eyed from afar was still there, dormant and waiting to break free of the new, tough shell. That was the girl he fell for, though he’d never admit it should anyone ask. He hated her, just like he hated his father and those who thought themselves his equal. Hated her so much that it hurt to expel all of the energy he needed to.

At home, he drank away the quick glimpses he had of her each day. With each sip he tried to forget her, but the cool amber liquid only brought back older memories—the shy way she held Duncan’s hand, the way she waited on Lilly _just so_ , the way she blended in at each party they attended.

None of that stopped him from skulking around her apartment complex once a week. It only took a moment to develop a plan that had yet to fail him each week. He dropped off his car at the beach and walked around, trying to gain any information to hurl back at her the next day. Part of him, though, somewhere deep down remembered that look between them weeks before and held onto it as a spark that could ignite them both together.

He peered into her room, trying to gather information for later. At the end of an hour, all he discovered was that she didn’t spent time in her room, but kept it lived in. Why she kept up appearances, he didn’t want to know, but he tucked the information into the back of his subconscious for a perfect moment of retaliation.

Instead of building up hatred at each moment on the walk back to his car, his mind filled with each detail of her room and how much he wanted to see it from the inside.

Whiskey never solved the problem before he dropped off into a fitful sleep, not thinking of her the whole time.

Each morning, the constant ache of his hard on would remind him that she _never_ left him now.

-*-

Since public perceptions must be maintained, he was more than thrilled when it was Donut who ran to her for help. Now she _had_ to talk to him to figure out whatever she needed for the sake of finding out who stole from the poker game.

Adrenaline raced through him when she walked into the pool house, and he reveled in the satisfaction from evading her questions.

Lest she spill his dirty secret to everyone, his tone remained obnoxious and caustic. _No use in rattling the natives._ When she finally left the room, all he could do was stare at her ass as she sauntered back to the main house.

_She most certainly was going to be the death of him._

-*-

The more time he _had_ to spend with her, the more obsessive he became. Not in a way that anyone at school would have noticed, but internally.

Nothing stopped him from thinking about her face when he finally knocked on her front door or the moment when he fell into her chest and bawled at the final confirmation of his mother’s death.

Much as whiskey dulled the pain of a dead mother, it also served to bring him closer and closer to her again. She’d never be far away if he fell over drunk or screamed at anyone—she never could turn away when someone was hurt.

The more he fell, the closer he thought she’d be. At the end of each night, however, she’d leave him to his thoughts instead of following him.

-*-

The moment she stepped away from him—the moment after he finally gave into her—he felt adrift. Everything when their lips met felt _right_ , like they each needed it to live, but then it all came crashing down.

Watching as she ran away from him, he vowed to win her back.

-*-

With a simple push into the restroom, he had her. She’d fallen just as hard as he had and nothing would keep them apart.

They wanted nothing more than to drown in each other—forget everything else as it built up around them—to go back to something like _before_.

-*-

It came crashing down—he should have known it would—just as soon as it began. She stopped looking at him with reverence—now replaced by disgust—as the tide changed and the mood shifted.

Summer pressed against all of them, infusing heat into everything. He saw that she didn’t meet his eyes when explaining why he’d been one to sin—long ago he reminded—but nothing about his plea for absolution registered.

-*-

Fall fell into place leaving the aching heat of summer behind as it tried to cool down the city. Weather failed, he thought, as he looked outside his window before he threw the carton outside, flicking a match shortly after the thud registered in his ears.

-*-

He knew she couldn’t avoid him—he’d worked too hard to be forgotten—and each sideways glance he received told him more about her than before.

_She’s not happy._

Pressing her buttons—as well as _his_ —became easy enough. Years of carefully remembered stories flew out in quick succession, followed by strategic touches, and they fell to him.

_I’m still winning._

-*-

Her cries gave away more than he thought she would ever tell. It was still there, deep down, willing her to care for him.

Watching her run into the office, he knew he still would have her again.

-*-

He’d never been this unsure around her—not knowing where to look or what to say—as they swayed back and forth.

At least he knew she still thought of him and wished to see him graduate.

-*-

Voice steady, he opened up. He wasn't sure what exactly came out, but it had to be honest given the sheer volume of champagne he’d been drinking all night.

Her face stunned, he hoped she’d remember everything later.

-*-

Turned out, he was the one to forget.

-*-

She clung to him in a way he didn’t think possible. Her cries were muffled in his shirt as a car alarm blared below them.

-*-

When he finally knew her, it felt different than he’d imagined it. There was no competition—no Troy, no Duncan—to gloat over.

_She’ll never be out of me now._

-*-

He couldn't comprehend what he’d just said to her—she’d been the one to break him time and time again—but the pressure of her personality, even after all these years, had worn him down.

Much as she still controlled his heart—he couldn’t let it be broken one more time.

Possession was a funny thing, he thought, as he tried to drink away the pain again.

-*-

He’d never give her up—nothing could keep her away—despite the new blonde who cautiously twined her fingers with his.

This was just a stupid game they played, though neither would admit it.

-*-  
In the same way he’d responded to anything in high school, he felt a sense of power as he looked at a bloody body lying at his feet.

He knew she’d watch it all, and in that moment, when she stared at him, he knew she was still his despite the boy at her side gaping in awe.

Possession would always be something he’d understand, especially when she couldn’t look away.

_She’ll never belong to anyone else._


End file.
